The Goal (Off-Campus Book 4)

Little James is in the back of the truck. The nurse waves to us from inside the foyer. I have a bag full of free shit sitting at my feet. Tucker’s hands are on the steering wheel. But we’re not moving.

“Why aren’t we moving?”

Tucker swings his bloodshot eyes toward the backseat. “We have a baby in this truck, Sabrina.”

“I know.”

He swallows hard. “This is fucked up. We shouldn’t be allowed to leave the hospital with a kid. I’ve never even had a pet before.”

I shouldn’t laugh at Tucker’s misery. In fact, it sort of hurts to do anything but sit in a still, slightly reclined position. But his frustrated, somewhat terrorized expression is so unlike him that I can’t stop a giggle from escaping. I cover my mouth to muffle the sound, having learned quickly in the forty-eight hours since the delivery that sleep is a precious and all-too-scarce commodity for new parents.

“I love that you’re the one freaking out. Start the car, Tuck. The family behind us wants to leave.”

He twists to peer through the back windshield. “They already have two kids. Let’s follow them home.”

“Let’s not.”

Gingerly, I reach over to Jamie’s car seat and tug the blanket down, because even though baby Jamie is sleeping and I should definitely not disturb her, I can’t help but want to stare into her beautiful, wrinkly face again. Her tiny baby mouth is slightly parted and her little baby fists are clenched tight by her side.

“Let’s go home,” I say firmly. “I want to hold her.”

My arms feel empty. Yes, Tuck and I are only twenty-two years old. Neither of us have steady jobs. I’m living at home with my angry nana and my asshole stepfather. Tucker’s living with a guy whose dream is to be an extra on the set of Entourage. And now we have a child together.

But looking at Jamie’s sweet face, all I can think of is how much I love her—and Tucker.

I ease back into my seat and watch as Tucker gets the truck into gear and pulls out slowly. I could walk faster than he’s moving the pickup along, but at least we’re leaving. Still, it takes us nearly forty-five minutes to make the drive home because Tucker maintains a steady speed of five miles under the speed limit.

“I’m surprised that even the Boston cop flipping you off and honking didn’t make you drive faster.”

“That asshole should be written up,” he retorts. “Stay there and I’ll come and help you out.”

I’ve learned in these last ten months that Tucker really gets off on helping me out of the truck, and I’m not gonna lie, I’m getting used to it.

He’s got these old-school courtly manners. Like, doors are always held open. I have to walk on the inside of the sidewalk in case there’s a drive-by shooting. He even holds my coat.

Mama Tucker raised him right. I could learn a lot from her. And since we’re bound together by this child, by her son, I’ve decided that we’re going to get along. No matter how many arrows she slings my way, I’m going to take them and prove to her that I’m good enough to be the mother of her grandchild.

“I wonder if I should get one of those baby-on-board signs. That way the assholes behind me can learn a little patience instead of laying on the horn like we’re all in some motherfucking emergency,” Tucker grumbles as he helps me out.

“What’s going to happen when one of those fuckers comes to your door wanting to take Jamie out on a date?”

Tucker stops abruptly, causing me to collide with his stiff back. “She’s going to an all-girls school.”

“Okay, so what happens if one of those fuckers is a female wanting to take Jamie out on a date?”

“None of this would be a problem,” he accuses, “if we stayed in the hospital like I suggested.”

I giggle and brush him aside so I can get to my girl. “She’s still sleeping.”

His solid frame presses into my back as he leans over to peek inside. “She’s so gorgeous. I can’t believe we made her,” he says quietly against my ear. “I’m buying a chastity belt.”

“I don’t think she needs one yet.”

“I’m thinking ahead.” He gently moves me aside to pluck the carrier out of the base.

I arch a brow. “I heard you once had a threesome.”

He nearly trips on a non-existent crack in the sidewalk. A light cough precedes his query, “A threesome? Who’d you hear that from?”

Ha! He doesn’t deny it. Amused, I brush by him to get the front door. “Carin heard it. Said it was always the quiet ones.”

“No threesomes for Jamie,” he declares. “Maybe we should homeschool her until she’s thirty.”

“We’re turning into hypocrites.”

Tucker nods enthusiastically. “Yup, and no guilt here.” Right before he ducks into the house, he murmurs, “By the way, it was a foursome.”

I gasp. “Two guys and two girls?”

He smirks. “Three girls and me.”

“Wow.” I’m more impressed than angry. “Good for you, stud.”

Snickering, he pushes into the front hall and kicks off his flip-flops.

Inside, the house is surprisingly quiet. Ray must still be in bed, because the television is on but the volume is low, and instead of ESPN, a game show is playing.

“That you, Sabrina?” Nana calls from the kitchen.

“I’ll take the baby to the bedroom,” Tucker says, trying to keep as quiet as possible.

I head to the kitchen. “Hey, Nana. I, ah, survived.” I raise my hands in a lame victory pose.

She wipes her hands on a towel. Behind her, bacon is sizzling in a pan and the smell of eggs and vanilla fill the air. My stomach rumbles in appreciation. Hospital food is terrible.

“The baby sleeping?”

“Yup.” I open the oven door. Thick slices of golden French toast rest in a syrup of peach juice. My mouth waters. “This looks so good.”

“You should eat and then go lie down. These first few weeks aren’t easy.” She nudges me toward the table, her tone and her touch surprisingly loving.

“Do you want to see Jamie?” I ask, trying not to sound too hopeful. Carin and Hope had visited yesterday, whereas Nana had stayed away. It definitely hurt my feelings, but since Nana is my go-to caregiver, I don’t want to be a jerk about this.

“She’s sleeping,” Nana says dismissively. “There’ll be time enough for holding when the little thing wakes up. Babies never sleep for long—you have to take advantage of it while you can. Your man here?”

“Right here, Ms. James. What can I help with?” Tucker strides in with purpose, filling up the small room with his tall frame and broad shoulders. Whatever trepidation he had upon leaving the hospital seems to have worn off.

“You sit down too. We’re having breakfast. French toast and bacon.”

“I wish I could stay, but I have to go. My boss called and one of the crew members fell off a ladder on a job. He said he’d pay me extra if I came on short notice.”

“Extra money’s good,” Nana says with a nod.

Tucker leans down to kiss my cheek. “Walk me out?”

I get up without question and follow him outside to the truck. Now that I don’t have a baby bump between us, things feel awkward. He’s seen me at my worst, though, and is still sticking around. “Thanks for everything.”

“I haven’t done much.”

“You were there with me. That’s a lot.”

He runs his thumb along my jawbone. “You were out of it in the hospital. Do you remember much of it?”

Like how you told me you love me?

“I don’t remember much,” I lie. “I was operating on pure exhaustion.”

His face tightens with disappointment. “All right. If you want to play it that way, I’ll let it go for now.” He opens the driver’s door. “I’ll see you after work. Call me if you need anything.”

I want to tell him I need him to say he loves me when I’m not screaming my head off in pain or when I’m not weeping about how scared I am of motherhood.

A dozen emotions slide and pulse beneath the thin membrane of my self-control. Feeling vulnerable, I step back. “We’ll be fine. Come when you can.”

From the way his jaw hardens into granite, I know it’s not the answer he wants.

With a small wave, I hurry inside, not waiting to see him roar away. In the living room, I find Nana holding Jamie.

“She was crying,” Nana says defensively.

“It’s fine,” I tell her, fighting a smile. “Mind if I hop in the shower? I feel gross.”

“You go on ahead.” Her gaze is glued to Jamie’s face. “This little one loves her grandma, don’t you? Don’t you?”

With a lightened heart, I hit the shower. Nana’s clearly halfway in love with Jamie already. Who wouldn’t be, though? She’s the most amazing thing in the world.

I take a good, long, hot shower, which they didn’t allow in the hospital due to the epidural. Despite the pain, it feels good to be out of that hospital bed. After drying off, I throw on a pair of old sweats and a T-shirt and then examine my reflection in the mirror.

My body still feels weird and not my own. The capillaries in my eyes burst during labor, so I look demonic, all red-eyed and wild hair. I could give Helena Bonham Carter a run for her weird, crazy money. My tummy is still large and round—only now it’s squishy and soft. My breasts have grown to enormous, comical sizes.

It’s a good thing I can’t have sex for six weeks. I can’t even look at my post-partum shape without flinching, let alone want Tucker to look at it.

“You still doing the breastfeeding thing? I always used formula, and both you and your momma turned out fine.” Nana eyes me expectantly as I join her in the living room.

“They’ve said it’s the best.”

“Hmmmph. I may’ve read something like that in People. Well, you should probably feed the poor tyke then.”

She hands the baby over, and I carefully tuck Jamie against my chest and carry her to my bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I lift up one side of my shirt, holding it against my chest with my chin, and then lift Jamie up to my boob. She roots around like a little animal until she finds the nipple. Thankfully, she latches on.

I sigh with relief and scoot backward on the mattress until my shoulders hit the wall. The lactation consultant warned me that breastfeeding is hard as fuck—well, she didn’t use those words exactly, but that was the gist—so I’m grateful that this is going okay for now.

Picking up my phone, I one-hand type a couple of texts.

Me: I’m home.

Hope: When can I come over?

Carin: NO!!!!!!! I haven’t finished the booties. Go back to the hospital!

Me: U sound like Tucker. He didn’t want to leave either.

Carin: Listen to ur BB daddy.

Hope: She’s not going back to the hospital bc UR not done knitting. Hospitals only keep you 2 days for a V birth. How RU feeling?

Me: Tired. Scared. Tucker told me he loved me at the hospital.

Hope: OMG.

Carin: OMG.

Hope: What’d u say?

Carin: She said she doesn’t believe in love, right?

I stick out my tongue at the phone.

Me: I pretended I didn’t hear him.

Hope: OMG.

Carin: See!

Hope: That’s the worst.

Is it, though? Is it really?

Me: It was an emotional time. Not holding him to it.

Hope: UR dumb. I’m ending my friendship with u.

Carin: She’s being unselfish.

Me: Thank u, C.

Hope: UR still dumb.

Me: Not dumb. Mom hates me. T’s forced to live in Bos. Don’t want him tied down. T shld b out there, hitting bars, tapping asses.

Carin: I take that back. UR dumb.

Hope: See!

Carin: You’d kill any chick who looked twice at him.

An image of Tucker with another woman, holding another baby besides Jamie, forms in my head, and a dull ache springs up in my chest. Carin’s not wrong at all. I’m not prepared for Tucker to move on, no matter how nonchalant and uncaring I try to be.

Jamie releases a sharp cry and I peer down to see her precious baby mouth rooting around for the nipple again.

Me: Gotta go. Baby crying.

Hope: Good luck.

Carin: Don’t wish her good luck. It’s not a sporting event.

Hope: 😛 What’s the worst response to I <3 you?

Carin: Silence and then, “I wish I felt the same.”

Hope: I’m thinking “Why?”

Carin: How about “That’s nice.”

Hope: Brutal.

Me: I’m done here.

Jamie opens her mouth, and the volume that comes out of her lungs surprises even me. It’s like there’s an amplifier in her throat.

“Shhhh. Shhhh.” I whirl around and pluck the blanket out of her car seat. It takes a few tries before I have her bundled up like a burrito. All the while, I’m shushing her. A ton of people online swear by a system called the Five S’s where you shush, swaddle, swing, side or stomach position, and…dammit, I can’t remember the other one.

Jamie doesn’t like that I’ve forgotten. Her face contorts into a puckered, unhappy mess as she belts out her opinion of my mothering skills.

“Shush, swaddle, swing, side or stomach, sing?” I hum a few bars.

Jamie wails on.

“Jesus Christ, what the hell is going on in there?” Ray’s up and pounding on my door.

“Come on, Little Jamie. Stop crying. Mommy’s here.”

Little Jamie doesn’t give a fuck. She screams even louder.

“Suck!” I shout in triumph. “Suck is the other one!”

I lunge for the dresser in the corner, where all of Jamie’s paraphernalia is stored. The door bursts open and Nana comes bustling in.

“What are you doing to that child?” she yells over the baby.

“Told you she was going to fuck up.” Ray’s right behind her and can’t wait to offer his unwanted two cents.

“Ray, that’s enough. You go eat your French toast.” Nana pushes me aside. “What’re you looking for?”

“Pacifier.” I fumble through tiny onesies, blankets, and burping cloths until I find a paci.

“Thought you were breastfeeding,” Nana comments as I try to shove the pacifier into Jamie’s mouth. Her tongue is stronger than Tucker’s ninth grade girlfriend’s. I give up after she spits it out for the fifth time.

“What do I do?” I ask Nana in desperation.

“She wants the nip,” Ray says from the door.

Is he right? Panicked, I flip up my shirt, not even caring that Ray can see my bare breast. Jamie latches on almost immediately, her whole body shaking from the crying. Small hiccups interrupt her sucks, but at least the crying has stopped. I sag onto the bed in relief.

In the middle of the room, Nana shakes her head. “You shouldn’t have ever got her hooked on the boob. Now that’s all she’s ever gonna want.”

“I like it.” Ray gives me a smarmy thumbs-up. “Nice tits, Rina.”

“Get out,” I snap, letting go of my top. Jamie gives a little cry as the fabric falls over her face. “Seriously, just get out. Nana, please.”

“You should’ve used a bottle,” Nana chides.

“You should take your shirt off,” is Ray’s helpful suggestion.

I clench my teeth. “I need some privacy. Please.”

“How you going to feed her while you’re at class?” Nana asks.

Jamie starts crying again. I pull up the shirt despite the fact that Ray is leering at me. I send another pleading glance to Nana, who finally moves toward the door.

“You go on now, Ray. Your breakfast is going to get cold.”

“This isn’t going to work, Joy,” he mutters. “That kid can’t be attached to Rina’s tit all day.”

“Leave them alone.” Nana shoots him a dirty look before addressing me. “Babies cry.”

Even before the door shuts, I whip off my shirt. Jamie quiets as I direct my nipple into her mouth. When she latches again, the tension starts to leech out of me.

Holy shit.

I don’t know if I can survive this. Her little head is dwarfed by my giant boob, but when her eyes open and her hand starts kneading me, so much love floods through my system that I grow weak.

The whole feeding process takes less than fifteen minutes. It’s the only fifteen minutes of peace I have for the next two hours. I can’t put her down. Every time I try, she starts to cry, which sets off a bout of screaming between Ray, Nana, and me. So I end up carrying her around, learning to eat with one hand, changing her diaper using three diapers because I tear off the tapes of the first two.

By the time Tucker checks in at noon, I’m an exhausted mess.

“Your daddy’s calling,” I tell Jamie as she stares at me out of slitted eyes. I’ve collapsed onto the floor, holding her bundled frame in my arms.

“How’s it going?” he asks when I answer the phone.

“I’ve had better days.” I hitch Jamie a tad higher on my shoulder. Her face burrows into my neck. “But I think you’re right. We shouldn’t have left the hospital.”

“There’s no going back now.”

“You have no idea.”

“Tell me about your morning.”

And I’m so grateful to hear his calm voice, I nearly burst out in tears. Somehow I manage to hold it together, telling him about how Jamie’s going to win Olympic medals in weightlifting because she’s already strong as fuck or that she could be a magician because she’s able to wiggle out of every blanket I’ve tried to wrap her in.

Tucker laughs and encourages me, and by the time I get off the phone, I’m convinced I can do this.